


Supernatural Support Alphabet: letter A: Anxiety

by Loveisshadytreeservice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, Awesome Dean, Fluff, Gen, Panic Attack, Reader Insert, dean takes care of reader, dean/reader friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loveisshadytreeservice/pseuds/Loveisshadytreeservice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reader has anxiety, dean helps</p>
            </blockquote>





	Supernatural Support Alphabet: letter A: Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

> I'm starting a new series, thinking about updating like once or twice a week. Lelt me know what you think, if you have a request for a letter please let me know I will make it happen. Have a great day, guys, thanks so much for reading.  
> <3 Charlie

SUPERNATURAL SUPPORT:  
A: ANXIETY

It had been a long week.  
Everyone knew it, everyone felt it, but somehow you were all pretending that you didn't. The three of you had been staying in San Diego, California for a week and a half, a simple salt and burn turned into a not so simple set of three very angry very old poltergeists. Each of you had taken one on, Dean finishing his off first and rushing to aide Sam, his being the oldest and the biggest. To be honest, you had sort of appreciated it. The boys had never treated you as something fragile, something easily broken, like your father had. 

Your father had loved you too much, so wrapped up in protecting you and keeping you safe that he forgot entirely about protecting himself. 

You all returned to the hotel room, Sam calling dibs on the first shower, mumbling something about ectoplasm in places ectoplasm should never be.

"Good work out there, y/n, you're gettin better at this." Dean said as he watched you flop onto the bed furthest from the door. 

"Yeah, well I try." you said, laughing dryly. This was all getting to be too much. Your bones felt heavy and moving to get under the covers for bed was far too much movement than you could bring yourself to manage. You had been living with a constant anxiety ever since your father died.   
Some days were easy, some were less so, but you prided yourself in being strong enough to never ask for help or bother anyone around you.   
When days felt too long, you faked a headache and went to bed, visions of your father's lifeless body in your arms dancing in your mind, the soothing words of your favorite song on your lips as you drifted into sleep. 

"I'm heading out to get us some food. Any special requests?" Sam asked, as he emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his floppy chestnut brown hair.

"Pie. Don't forget the pie!" Dean shouted from the corner of the room, his face lighting up at the prospect of his favorite dessert. 

"Since when do I forget?" Sam asked incredulously, chuckling. "Y/N, do you want anything?" you shook your head, face still buried in the dusty comforter of the motel bed. 

"Alright then, I'll be back in a few." Sam said tossing the keys up in the air and catching them as he stepped out of the room. You jumped at the sound, causing Dean to cast you an awkward sideways glance, but he didn't say anything. That's what you liked about him, you thought, he didn't always have to ask you what was wrong or why you were sad or why you were scared. He knew when to speak and when to hug you and when to leave you alone.  
He flopped on to the other bed and switched on the crappy television set across the room. Static played over most of the channels before he settled on MASH reruns and turned the volume down so you could just barely hear the dialogue.

In the entire time that you had been back, you had not said much, but the feeling of heaviness in your heart and emptiness in the pit of your stomach was growing stronger with every intake of breath. You needed to go out and get some air, you thought as you stood suddenly. You were almost halfway out the door before you heard the oldest Winchester brother call out to you. 

"Y/N, where are you going? It's late! Come back inside." You payed no attention to his comments as your breathing increased in speed. 

You needed to sit down but you needed to run.  
You needed to be held but you needed to be alone.  
You needed to asleep but you needed to feel alive.  
You were a walking contradiction and your mind was becoming to clouded to process your own thoughts. You made fists then relaxed, clenching your fingers together and then shaking them out, a habit you had developed to help calm yourself down. You tried the breathing trick camp counselors and teachers and school nurses show you when you have a panic attack in public. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.   
A pair of strong arms were suddenly around your waist, pulling your back into a muscular chest.   
Dean Winchester smelled like leather and whiskey and old spice just like your father had. Dean Winchester smelled like home.   
He spun you in his arms so that your face was pressed into his chest, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held you, whispering reassurances into the night. He brought his other hand up to hold your face away from him so he could look into your eyes.   
You squeezed them shut, not wanting him to see the fear that lived inside them. Tears streamed freely down your face as your breath hitched, your sobs echoing loudly in the nearly empty parking lot.

"Hey hey hey calm down sweetheart, you're alright. You're okay," he whispered to you like you were a scared child. You felt small, a speck of dust floating among stars. "You wanna tell me whats up or you wanna just chill for a sec, huh?" he asked, already knowing the answer. He guided you back into the room, hands never leaving you for more than a second as he reached to shut the door behind you. 

He brought you over to his bed, sitting on the edge and pulling you into his lap. It occurred to you then to be self conscious, you weren't exactly what you'd consider small, and yet there you were, being held like a child. You were on the edge of hysteria when a soft soothing sound reached your tangled thoughts. a simple melody drifting down to you.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad." 

You loved that song. You wondered how he knew. 

"Take a sad song" 

Your breath slowed gradually with each note.

"and make it better" 

You smiled for the first time that day.

"Remember to let her into your heart"

His hand rubbed slowly up and down your back as he sang, alleviating the pressure you had felt in your heart for so long and together you sang the next verse, your voice muffled as you buried your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder.

"Then you can start to make it better"

You sat like that for a little while longer, until he knew for sure you were alright and you knew for sure that you could manage on your own again. 

"Go take a shower. You smell like ectoplasm." He said with mock disgust. You giggled and stood. As you gathered your clothes and headed to the bathroom, Dean asked

"You gonna be okay, kiddo?"

you smiled and answered honestly 

"I think so." 

The long week was over and all was well.


End file.
